The Firstborn of Mercury: The Host of Kronos
by Broken Core Studios
Summary: The traitor Luke Castellan has returned to the realm of the living, with no memory of his past life. Can he save Greece and harness the power of Kronos before it-or the giants-destroys him?


*** LUKE ***

THE WEIRD THING IS that it doesn't really bother me. I don't know about you, but walking forty-something miles without stopping, for every single day since I can remember doesn't really matter to me in the slightest. I never get tired. I'm like an Energizer bunny. And plus there's the off-chance I can catch a wink every other month or so. What bothers me is the _solid gold_ armor I'm wearing. _Solid. Gold._ Not to mention the large gold-plated scythe strapped to my back-which, on occasion, glows-, which adds another 2 pounds or so to my mass body weight. Now, right about here, you're probably thinking two -how can you even breathe, much less walk forty miles a day. Two-How has no one noticed a teenager wearing golden armor and swinging around a golden scythe wandering the USA and called the cops?  
>.As for the first one,I have no idea. Maybe I'm Superman, or a really weird cousin. Maybe my godly parent is Buffman, god of Abs and lower hip workouts. Don' 't get me wrong, it's heavy stuff, but I'm allowed basic movement, etc. Just don't ask me to do a for number two-people look at me, and they see...something. I Dunno. But "something" comes in handy a lot.<p>

Y'see, I'm not your normal teenager, as you've probably guessed by now. I guess I owe you some sort of rudimentary explanation.

Twelve weeks ago, give or take a couple of days, I woke up in a Greyhound train bound for Canada, with no memories of anything before that. The only thing I could remember was...a face. The face of a teenager, probably 16 or 17. I know his name, but i can't remember who he is, or why, of all the things from my old life, i'd remember him.

Percy. Percy Jackson.

I got off the Greyhound at the first rest stop, grabbed a Big Mac, and started heading West, following...well, a feeling in my stomach. I know it sounds crazy, but...it's true. The feeling got stronger the further west I got. Sometimes I could have sworn I saw a white wolf following me. I basically wandered in vauge, westward directon for a week or so.

The weird thing is, when I got near New York, the feeling got stronger than ever. I could barely stand. But every time I tried to go inside the city limits, the feeling dimmed, become almost nothing. Someone was telling me it wasn't time for me to be here yet. So, I left NY. I followed my gut across 3/5 of the US, and the better half of Mexico. But wherever I go, the monsters follow. Always. And then there are the dreams.

Every time I manage to sleep without having to worry for my life, I have a dream. The same one over and over again. It's of myself, kneeling in the middle of a large throne room. My eyes are glowing golden, and Percy, whoever he is, is standing in front of me, along with a strange, somehow familiar girl. The girl hands me a knife, and then I turn it inwards, like I'm gonna stab myself. Then the dream fades.

Luckily, the constant barrage of monsters usually keeps me awake for days. Snake ladies, Cyclops, half-man-half-horse things with _horns_, all of them are jsut part of the horde of abominations hunting me down. But this is the worst one yet. I haven't _seen _it, whatever it is, but it's large. And evil. I can't even run anymore. I have to face this monster head-on.

I'm crouching low on top of a two-story building, watching mortals pass on by, chatting on cellphones. I look into the air. The sun is setting behind the streets of LA. If I'm gonna make it to the next place on my gut-sense's road trip tour list by tomorrow, I have to start moving. Now. Before it catches up with me. I'm lucky my armor isn't visible to mortals, or I'd practically be a lighthouse, with the suns rays reflecting off of me in every direction for a mile.

Which they technically are. The Mist stops mortals from seeing me, but it doesn't stop_ me _from seeing _me_. The sunlight makes it practically impossible for me to look at any part of my body without being blinded. I gaze at the mortals for a minute, then turn away. I walk to a small, metal hatch, open it, and slide through. A row of stairs greets me as I enter the building. I walk down, fingering my Scythe the whole time.

I stop in the motels' lobby to flick a gold coin at the clerk, a thin, skinny man with an equally thin beard. The man gazes at the gold for a second, his eyes wide with shock, then nods at me. I step outside, pushing the revolving door open. I look around and breathe in the fresh air. Suddenly, the ground of LA shakes. It's a huge quake, collapsing trees and buildings. Cracks appear beneath my feet. I can see mortals panicking, running, entire buildings falling. I fall to my feet, my sycthe dropping from my hands and clattering away from me.

There's another tremor, a larger one this time, sending the mortals into an even more frenzied panic. I can see fires staring in other parts of the city. I slowly reach for my scythe.

Then I hear it.

_Thoom, Thoom._

_Thoom Thoom_.

A massive rhythm. The steps of giant feet. Their every step shatters the ground. I grasp my Scythe, struggling to my feet. Somebody has to protect the mortals. That's my job. I'm a demigod. I grasp my scythe and stagger in the direction of the pounding feet, panting for breath. A large mortal woman pushes past me, rushing to a locked car. She jams a set of keys into the keyhole, rips open the door, and the car speeds off down the highway. One more human safe.

_Thoom, Thoom, Thoom, THOOM._

The pounding is getting louder, now. I can hear the creature calling in the distance, searching for me, I guess. And then it does something that surprises me. Really surprises me. I don't know how I know it, but If I strain I can hear the creature's roars. A name. A name I know.

**"LUKE CASTELLAN! GET OVER HERE, SCUM! CASTELLAN! COME TO YOUR DOOM, MORTAL!"**

My name.

Luke Castellan.


End file.
